plenty of unmarried men all right, but none you’d want in your parlor, let alone
marching down the aisle with you.”
“I’m not in any hurry to get married.”
“You don’t want to wait too long. Best to be having your children while
you’re young.”
“I’m not in any hurry for that either.”
“Shame on you! Shame! Why you never want to say such a thing! Children
are what we all pray to Jesus for. Filmore and I haven’t been blessed yet, but I’ve
known from the minute I married him why the good Lord put me on earth. To bear seed. Why, what else makes a woman a woman? God made you capable of
creating life. That’s a privilege and a duty. Every Christian child you bring into this world is a blessing. The most wonderful blessing!”
Olivia’s response had been intentionally contrary. She was anxious to have
children, many children, but she resented Iola’s intrusiveness and being told that
her only goal in life should be finding a husband. She knew there was no small
truth in what folks said: “Choose a husband, choose a life.” Marry a farmer, you
might get hauled off to Michigan. Marry a storekeeper and you’d have a whole
different life. Don’t marry at all, you’re a pathetic old maid. Sometimes it seemed to Olivia that the only way a woman could walk around in the world and
just be herself was to marry someone and then have him die on her.
“Yes, I know, of course you’re right. Children are a great blessing.” Olivia tried to make peace with her neighbor and then changed the subject. “Thank you
again for the eggs. I forgot what they taste like. Tell me, is it hard to keep chickens?”
“Lord, no. There ain’t nothing easier. Ain’t what to do but toss grain out in the yard and pick up the eggs. Twist the head off one and throw it in a pot for
your Sunday dinner.” Iola leaned back and took a sip of her coffee.
“Don’t you have to build them a coop or something?” Olivia asked, relieved
that Iola’s tone was once again neighborly.
See, Olivia thought, if you make the effort to get along with people, they’re allright.
“Well of course you got to put a roof over them in the winter, but they ain’t
about to run off into the woods. Not as long as you keep feeding them. Folks out
here don’t bother fencing in any of their barnyard animals. Let the cows graze free and call them in at night. I’ll tell you a trick.” She leaned forward. “Once it
gets hot and the mosquitoes are out strong, you keep a smudge pot burning right
close by the house. ’Fore long you’ll see all your animals standing in a circle around it, never have to go round them up at all. They learn real fast to stay by
the smoke, so they don’t get bit. Never have to go chasing after them during mosquito season.”
“How do you make a smudge pot?”
“Get some wood chips burning real good and throw a handful of dirt on ’em.
Or if you got coals, burn a little sugar over ’em. Couple of weeks or so, them mosquitoes will be out something fierce.”
“I’m so lucky to have a neighbor like you, who knows how to do everything.”
Olivia rose to pour them both more coffee and apologized for not having any milk to offer her.
“I’ll have to bring you some, next time I come visiting.” Iola smiled.
“So you keep a cow?”
“Yes, we do. But that’s a lot more work than chickens. You got to milk it every day, morning and night. Then you got all that milk you got to do
something with. I can show you how to make butter and cheese you can sell to
Norma Gay, but I don’t know if a young girl like you wants to take that on.
